


Marks

by InvisibleSpork



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Because apparently drunk me writes porn, Blood, But not blood play, I have a problem, I was drunk, M/M, Rough Sex, This is not the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisibleSpork/pseuds/InvisibleSpork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They only ever do this on days with a full moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marks

They only ever do this on days with a full moon. This frantic jumble of gasps and growls and the slide of sweat-slicked skin against skin.

"Oh Jesus _fuck_ , George," Mitchell gasps as George shoves him against the door, snarling into his neck as Mitchell rips open his belt.

"Stop talking," George fists a hand in Mitchell's hair to yank him down for a kiss. There is no gentleness – just a brutal, primal need and ownership as George forces his mouth open. Mitchell closes his eyes and groans. George bites too hard, and Mitchell retaliates with an obscene twist of his hips.

George inhales sharply and breaks the kiss. When he looks back, Mitchell is wearing that smile. The one that is half naughty and half childishly gleeful and always just a little too wide.

"What?"

Mitchell shakes his head. "Nothing. Just wondering when you were going to realize there's a bed in your room. I mean not that I'm opposed to wall sex or floor sex or really sex in general but I thought – " he breaks off with a laugh as George yanks him away from the wall, stripping clothes as they go.

Mitchell flounders a bit, falling gracelessly backwards as George pushes him onto the bed. George pauses for a moment above him, hands braced on either side of his head. Mitchell can feel his Star of David charm where it falls against his chest and marvels again that it doesn't burn. Then the moment is over and George moves back in, mouthing wetly over that patch of skin where jaw becomes neck, feeling the scratch of Mitchell's stubble against his cheek and tongue. Mitchell drags his nails down his back, and George bites down hard enough to leave a mark.

It never lasts long, not this rough, animalistic rutting. They're lucky to have even gotten their pants off this time, though George is still wearing one of his socks. Mitchell pushes up against George, the thin sheen of sweat making them slip as they thrust against each other. When he comes, George muffles a howl in Mitchell's shoulder, biting hard enough to break the skin; Mitchell comes to the scent of his own blood in the air.

In a minute Mitchell will clean them up with George's extra sock which will cause George to make his high pitched noise of disgust. George will go out to the countryside to change and Mitchell will curl up in George's bed clinging to the remaining body heat that he can no long generate. The next day George will come back exhausted and dirty. Mitchell will hand him one of Annie's mugs of tea. And neither of them will mention the previous night.

They only ever do this on days with a full moon. They scratch and claw and bite at each other, doing their best to leave their mark on the other because come the morning, those marks will be gone.


End file.
